


tell me no lies (except that you love me)

by mzyz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, But just a little, Kissing, M/M, Sexual Content, basically kuroo being stupid for tsukki: the fanfic, but not explicit lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mzyz/pseuds/mzyz
Summary: the almost-sunset light streamed in through the tinted car windows, splashing across tsukishima’s skin in waves of gold and orange. he looked ethereal, sitting there with his finely drawn features, rosy cheeks and still-swollen lips; he took tetsurou’s breath away.or, alternatively, tsukishima kei walks into kuroo tetsurou's life then right back out-- this is the story of how he comes back.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is just the culmination of me loving kurotsuki and the bokuroi friendship more than life itself. 
> 
> this au doesn't follow the current canon (i.e. oikawa isn't in brazil, he's in the uni)
> 
> pls enjoy!

They say that people will always walk in and out of your life but the good ones, the ones you should hold onto, will stay. Tetsurou’s heard that phrase, the sentiment, in various ways from various people throughout his life; on cheesy Instagram text posts with flowers in the background or just from him Mom, sitting in the dining room on a Sunday morning.

There was some worth in that idea but Tetsurou wasn’t sure how much he agreed. Because Tsukishima Kei walked right in and out of his life, leaving Tetsurou in his wake but Tetsurou doesn’t think he could ever call what Tsukishima gave to him a bad thing. Tsukishima left but Tetsurou never remained the same.

* * *

“Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima’s voice shook, ever so slightly, and it made Tetsurou’s heart pinch in his ribcage. The blonde’s voice was never like that. It was even-toned with a hint of sarcasm (and sometimes just a tiny bit of amusement) but never like that. There was so much uncertainty, falling off his tongue in waves, that Tetsurou really thought he might die. “ _Kuroo-san_.”

It was hot— the hottest weekend in Tokyo all summer. The air was sweltering, suffocating them with heat seeping into every crevice. Or, maybe, it wasn’t really the weather but the flush, painted on both boys’ faces, that crept down the rest of their bodies.

“Do you want me to stop?” Tetsurou asked, voice low and unsure. His fingers, making a path down the sides of Tsukishima’s porcelain skin, stilled. He knelt right in front of Tsukishima, eye-level with the younger’s naval. He could feel his own skin, prickling with, in part, arousal and, in part, fear.

A gulp. “No.”

A nod. “Okay.” Tetsurou continued, pressing a kiss to Tsukishima’s stomach. That action, alone, sent the younger stumbling all the way back to wall of the supply closet. There was atall stack of mats, the same height as a chair, and Tsukishima clumsily sat down on them, thighs spreading out just slightly when he did. His slender fingers, wrapped in medical tape, curled around the edges of the multicolored mats. Tetsurou watched as long, light eyelashes fluttered against the lens of Tsukishima’s glasses.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Tetsurou told him. The night was beginning to creep up on them but not there yet; the pre-evening light danced in through the lone window, casting over their bodies. It trickled into the room like honey, syrupy and slow. Pretty fitting, had you asked Tetsurou.

Tsukishima raised one hand off the mat, pressing it to Tetsurou’s scalp, tentatively. _He’s never done anything like this before_ , Tetsurou thought, gazing up just slightly. Then, _hell, I’ve never either_.

Tetsurou’s lips graze over the inner part of Tsukishima’s leg, slowly, and a whimper leaves Tsukishima’s lips. Tetsurou didn’t react, he knew that the blonde was probably more embarrassed by his noises than Tetsurou. Besides, Tetsurou could barely hear anything except the pounding of his heart in his ears, anyway. He bit down on his bottom lip, tightening his grasp on Tsukishima’s ankle.

* * *

They’d just been practicing, that was all; Bokuto and Akaashi ( _those fuckers_ ) slipped away, leaving just the two of them to clean up before heading to dinner.

“Y’know, Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima had said, while clutching a volleyball tight in his hands, cutting through the silence that had settled in between them like a knife. His voice held a tone the elder had never heard from Tsukishima before. “I can see you looking at me the way you do.”

Tetsurou had blanched, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Then set in the panic. “ _Shit_ , Tsukki. I don’t mean anything like—does it make you comfortable? I can stop, I didn’t—“

“Don’t stop,” the blonde looked away.

“Huh?”

Before Tetsurou could react, he felt a grasp on his loose black t-shirt. Then a yank and a pair of soft, parted lips being pressed to his own. In shock, Tetsurou huffed out a little breath that went straight into Tsukishima’s mouth and the blonde pulled away. He looked at Tetsurou with those searching, bronze-tinted eyes. _Why didn’t you kiss back?_ they asked. Tetsurou has no response to that question; all he could do was cup Tsukishima’s jaw with his calloused palms and kiss him… _hard_.

* * *

In the heat of it all, they’d somehow managed to shove themselves into the supply closet, the sticky, humid air enveloping them as they kissed and kissed and _kissed_. Tetsurou panted, under his breath, and squeezed his eyes shut. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that this was _happening, actually happening,_ and with _Tsukki_ of all people. The boy he’d been enamored by since their first game back during Golden Week. The boy who’s never spared Tetsurou more than a curt response a nod.

“A-are,” Tsukishima swallowed, harshly, but a familiarly teasing lilt tickled his voice, “you actually _scared_ , Kuroo-san?”

“Aw, shut up,” Tetsurou muttered. “Of course I am but… but I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?”

Tsukishima blinked. Once. Twice. He was stunned, a rare state of being for Tsukishima Kei. Then, he raised both hands to his face, covering his eyes and nose and mouth. “God, are you always this embarrassing?”

“ _Always_ ,” Tetsurou replied, emphatically. Tsukishima was full-on trembling at this point but so was Tetsurou. He felt, in his squatting position, that his knees were three seconds from giving way but he continued. He planted a long, excruciatingly long, kiss to Tsukishima’s soft, unblemished skin before being to suck, softly, on it.

A thin whine was seemingly ripped out of Tsukishima’s vocal chords. Tetsurou reached out a hand to grab something more lewd when the sound of the gymnasium door being thrust open had the two of them scrambling to get as far away from each other as possible.

“Kuroo? Tsukki?” Bokuto’s thundering voice echoed in the hollow gym and, now that he was apart from the blonde, the summer air felt much cooler than it had before.

“Damn that owl bastard,” Tetsurou cursed under his breath but a feeling of gratefulness prickled under his skin. Somehow, it hadn’t seemed right doing it in a dingy, high school volleyball supply closet.

The head of the owlish ace popped up in the doorway. “What’re you guys doin’ in here?”

Tetsurou heaved a sigh. “What do you want, Bo?”

“If you two don’t get your ass down to the lunchroom, Yukie said you’re not gonna get any food.”

Tetsurou turned to look at Tsukishima, still sitting on the mats and trying to mask the shock still painted on his face. He flashed the blonde a regretful, weary smile and nodded towards the exit. Wordlessly, Tsukishima got up and followed the two captains out of the closet.

* * *

And that was it for training camp. There were no more encounters, in fact, there were even less interactions between the two than normal. During the day, Tsukishima would avert his gaze and stubbornly pretend that he didn’t know Tetsurou was staring at him. At extra nighttime practice, he didn’t so much as speak any more than a sentence to Tetsurou at a time, making sure to slip away before there was any chance the two could be alone.

 _Shit_ , Tetsurou thought, laying in his futon in between Kenma and Yamamoto, looking at the ceiling. _I really screwed up. He’s never going to want to speak to me again. I should’ve waited._

Anxiety gnawed at his stomach right up until the last day of camp. Karasuno was always the first to leave because of the long drive back to Miyagi. So Tetsurou watched, amused, as Sawamura barked at his players, ordering them to pack their stuff up quickly and make sure to thank all the teachers. He stood, arms crossed and grinning easily, behind Bokuto, chatting excitedly with Hinata, when he felt a tug on his wrist.

“Hm?” He turned and automatically flushed when Tsukishima looked back at him.

“I’ll text you, okay?”

Tetsurou blinked, lost on anything to say except the “So we’re okay?” that he blurted out, the words coming out involuntarily.

“I’ll text you,” Tsukishima repeated, refusing to look Tetsurou in the eye. “And we’ll see if you earned a second chance.”

Evidently, he _did_ earn a second chance because only two weeks later, Tsukishima was back in Tokyo for the weekend.

They didn’t do much that weekend. Or, rather, they didn’t do much outside of Tetsurou’s locked bedroom, that is.

Tetsurou found himself falling deeper and deeper (so deep there were times when he thought he might never claw his way out of the enigma that was Tsukisima Kei). When Tsukishima headed back to Miyagi, late Sunday afternoon, Tetsurou insisted on driving him to the train station in his mother’s car.

“I can walk you in,” Tetsurou said, lightly, unable to peel his gaze away from the blonde.

“It’s okay,” Tsukishima waved him off, dismissively. “Dropping me off here is fine.”

Tsukishima turned to leave when Tetsurou grabbed him, wrapping his fingers around Tsukishima’s forearm and tugging him back.

“Did…was…was it good? I mean, was the weekend good for you?” Tetsurou stumbled through his words.

The corners of Tsukishima’s eyes crinkled a little, expression morphing into something rather soft, a far cry from his usual, indifferent scowl. He let out a soft breath of air, almost a chuckle but not quite. The almost-sunset light streamed in through the tinted car windows, splashing across Tsukishima’s skin in waves of gold and orange. He looked ethereal, sitting there with his finely drawn features, rosy cheeks and still-swollen lips; he took Tetsurou’s breath away.

“Yeah. It was,” he told Tetsurou. Tetsurou shifted in his seat, the seat belt suddenly feeling incredibly tight around his torso. Leave it to a snotty first-year from the suburbs, of all things, to be Tetsurou’s undoing. Though, he supposed, if he was going to be undone, there was no one he’d rather be undone by.

“Are,” Tetsurou rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly, “we going to do this again?”

“I dunno,” Tsukishima looked out the window, apprehensive. “Spring Tournament is going to be really soon… won’t you be fraternizing with the enemy?”

Tetsurou couldn’t help chortling at that. “Aw c’mon Tsukki, you’re gonna leave me hanging like that? Besides, you’ll only become my enemy when we get to Nationals.”

Tsukishima was quiet for a moment, turning his head to study Tetsurou. He could see the gears turning in Tsukishima's head. Vaguely, as Tetsurou stared back, he wondered what Tsukishima was thinking. What he thought of the elder and his words. 

Then, “You really think you’re gonna make it? Both of us are going to get to Nationals?”

“Well,” Tetsurou tilted his head back, against the carseat head, and looked at the sunroof. “Yeah. I want to think so. I, my whole team… we’ve trained so hard and I made a promise, way back in First Year, that we’d get there. So...” he trailed off. 

“And you think we will too? How can you be so sure things will work out in your… our… favor?”

“I’m not,” Tetsurou cocked an eyebrow, an easy smile spreading across his lips. “But you have to now, with all I taught you.”

Tsukishima let out a breathy _hrmph_ of laughter and pulled the strap of his overnight bag up to his shoulder. With one of Tsukishima’s hands on the car door, turning to leave, Tetsurou just _had_ to call out.

“So we’ll do this again, right?”

“Just text me. Thank you for the weekend, Kuroo-san.”

“You know,” Tetsurou said as Tsukishima’s body was half-way out of the car. The open door let in a waft of spring breeze, blowing their hair to the side. “You can call me Tetsurou. Y’know… if you’d like.”

“No,” Tsukishima mumbled in a voice so soft, Tetsurou wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t been straining so hard to hear. “Kuroo-san is fine.” 

* * *

Despite Tetsurou’s hopes, they didn’t meet again after that weekend (though that didn’t stop them from texting almost daily. Volleyball updates, mostly, and memes on Tetsu’s part. Cheeky jabs at one another). The next time they saw each other was at, despite everything, Spring Nationals.

And after grueling games, that ended with loss for both teams, they met just at the cusp of midnight. Tetsurou was sure Tsukishima slipped out of the watchful eyes of his team with no issue while he, on the other hand, had to stumble over some half-baked excuse before booking it. He was sure all of them knew, anyway. When it came to Tsukishima, nothing about Tetsurou was subtle.

“Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima greeted him and Tetsurou breathed out, shakily. Yes, he’d heard Tsukishima’s quite a few times throughout the day but it had felt like an eternity since he’d heard it this way. The way that was just for him and no other ears.

“Tsukki,” Tetsurou walked forward, closing the gap between them, hastily. Tsukishima’s lips tasted the same as they had, just a few months prior. Faintly sweet and like the Pocari Sweat the team was surely drinking to replenish electrolytes.

Tetsurou felt Tsukishima breathe out, right into Tetsurou’s hungry parted lips, before kissing back. Slowly. Skillfully, Tetsurou moved his tongue around in a way that had Tsukishima fumbling for the front of Tetsurou’s tank top. Tetsurou loved the way the fabric balled up in Tsukishima’s fist. Loved the feeling of the first year, close. 

“I missed you,” Tetsurou panted, pulling away in favor of pressing their foreheads together. Tsukishima didn’t reply. That was okay, though, because his lips still awaited Tetsurou’s. And, boy, Tetsurou had no qualms about diving right back in.

The movements were like muscle memory, despite only having done it a handful of times in just a day or so. It was like something ingrained inside Tetsurou remembered all the ebbs and flows of Tsukishima’s body. Remember the way to move and act and angle himself.

Maybe it was because he remembered Tsukishima’s face (the vulnerability of it all, seeping in and spreading through their interwoven limbs) and his body was moving on pure instinct with the one goal of seeing that beautiful face and that beautiful expression again and again.

Or maybe because he remembered the feelings of joy that erupted within him when he realized that Tsukishima, cold-hearted Tsukishima Kei, was letting Tetsurou see the most fragile parts of him. Allowing _himself_ to see the most fragile parts of Tetsurou.

It was, for just a little bit, euphoria.

“Can we do this again?” Tetsurou asked while they basked in the afterglow like he always felt the need to. He couldn’t help it, though. In a haze of lust and _so much_ love, he always found himself orbiting the first year no matter what he did. Always found his thoughts drifting back to those disapproving bronze eyes. Always wondering when he could see him next.

“I don’t know,” Tsukishima told him, voice just a little hoarse and gravely, staring up at the ceiling far, whirling about.

Tetsurou flipped over onto his stomach, propping his head up with his elbows. “Why not?”

“You’re graduating,” Tsukishima stated, simply. “I doubt you’d want to waste your time on some high schooler from Miyagi.”

“Sure I do,” Tetsurou replied. And when Tsukishima didn’t look at him, as expected, Tetsurou took the blonde’s face in his hands. His cheeks were warm and Tetsurou rubbed the edge of his thumb against Tsukishima’s face, stroking just below his earlobe. Emphatically and locking in a gaze with he younger, he promised, “I do.”

Instead of looking happy or relieved as Tetsurou would have, had their positions been switched, Tsukishima just looked disinterested. Maybe a little sad. His eyes wandered somewhere Tetsurou could not follow; uncharted territory into a deeper unknown. He could only hope that, somewhere in that calculating mind of Tsukishima’s,he was a possibility.

“Okay,” Tsukishima whispered, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

They spent a little while more, curled up in each others' arms. Tetsurou relished in the sound of Tsukishima, breathing in and out. The feeling of his body curled around Tsukishima’s, hands drifting over the younger’s stomach, where his shirt rode up. When he closed his eyes tight and listened hard enough, he could’ve sworn he heard their quick hearts, beating in tandem. If he’d known what was to come, he would’ve held on and never let go.

* * *

Graduation was hard, saying goodbye to his team was even harder. Hardest, though, was waiting on Tsukishima.

Tsukishima had left Tetsurou, that night after Nationals, with a promise to stay in contact but Tetsurou’s phone remained uncharacteristically silent. He’d tried texting Tsukishima, once he got home, but there was no reply.

Every notification, buzzing in his pocket, had Tetsurou scrambling to check if, just maybe, it was the first year. It never was, though, and it left Tetsurou a mess.

He started university with Bokuto in tow, their cheap apartment right off of campus, and a spot on the school’s volleyball team… and (most devastatingly) silence from Tsukishima Kei, the only person Tetsurou wanted to love.

* * *

And that was it. As quickly as it had begun, like a sharp inhale then a quick exhale, it ended.

Sensibly, Tetsurou stopped waiting, eventually. Well, he stopped waiting with baited-breath, at least. There was a part of him, way in the back of his mind, that would never stop holding out for the young, light-haired middle blocker who always spoke back to his upperclassmen and whimpered when Tetsurou kissed his thighs in a supply closet.

He figured that Tsukishima would become a fond memory he’d look back on; the first love he never got to keep. The one so close but yet so far, slipping through Tetsurou’s fingers before Tetsurou ever really had a chance to catch him.

“‘Kaashi called me last night, they just had their training camp.” Bokuto had said one lazy afternoon, halfway through their first year. They were sat on the couch in the heat of a 2-hour-long Smash Bros tournament.

“Yeah? Karasuno there?”

“Mmhmm,” Bokuto hummed. Then, “Whatever happened to Tsukki, by the way?”

Tetsurou laughed, good-naturedly as if it wasn’t still painful and raw in his chest, and ran a hand through his messy hair. “Don’t know.”

“Did you guys, like, do it?” Bokuto implored, eyes still glued to the screen.

“Yeah,” Tetsurou told him. “A couple of times. I told him to text me but, I dunno, guess I got ghosted.”

Bokuto let out a strangled half-laugh, half-shout. “That’s our Tsukki, cold-hearted. Think I definitely walked in on you guys, that one time in the supply closet.”

Tetsurou opened his mouth to reply but before he had the chance, Bokuto let out a squawk when Tetsurou threw him off the stage and the topic was dropped.

Tsukishima Kei lingered in his mind but other things began to fill it, slowly. Like his favorite science courses and the volleyball practices that took up the bulk of his schedule. And, of course, movie nights with Bokuto. Life chugged along for Tetsurou. And it was okay.

* * *

“Hey,” Bokuto called, a Wednesday towards the end of their third year. He joggedover to where Tetsurou stood on the court, head tilted as he drank from his bottle. “Coach wants to see you. Something about a new recruit or something.”

Tetsurou nodded and headed towards the bleachers, where their coach stood, the sound of his shoes squeaked against the shiny wooden planks.

“Kuroo,” his coach said, staring down at his clipboard. “There’s a potential new middle blocker coming next weekend, really talented kid, and I’d like you to show him around.”

Tetsurou tilted his head just a little, narrowing his eyes. “With all due respect, sir, why? Isn’t there an upperclassmen that could show him around?”

“I was talking to his club advisor and he mentioned you know this guy from back in the day… Karasuno High School?”

Tetsurou’s heart stilled and suddenly he felt very small. _Don’t say it_ , he pleaded silently, _don’t say the name I know you’re about to say_.

“Tsukishima Kei? I have his number here if you want to reach out—“ his coach continued to talk but all it was was a garbled mess to Tetsurou’s ears. All he could think about was that night after Nationals, the scene playing in his head again and again and _again_ and he felt very sick.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is entitled: bokuroi friendship juice, come get some

“Kuroo?” the sound of his coach’s voice pulled him back down to Earth. “Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Tetsurou managed, his stomach tied up in far too many knots. The lump in his throat made his words come out sort of incoherent and broken up. He raised a balled-up fist to his mouth and coughed. “Yeah, sure. How many days is he staying?”

“Just for the long weekend. I was hoping he could stay with you and Bokuto ‘cuz we don’t really have anywhere else to put him. Bring him to a party or somethin’, show him some fun.”

Tetsurou bowed his head, “I’ll do my best,” he promised.

His coach clamped a strong hand to his shoulder, shaking it. “Thanks. I’m trusting you, we could really use this guy on our roster.” Then, turning to where the rest of the team that was scattered about the gym, he shouted with an ear-splitting yell “Everyone! Suicide sprints!”

For the rest of practice Tetsurou felt the world shifting dangerously underneath him, jostling him around like an amusement park ride that never let up. It must have showed, too, because during their break, Bokuto slung an arm, water bottle in the other, around Tetsurou’s shoulder.

“You good, bro?”

“Tetsu-chan’s distracted today,” Oikawa sing-songed from behind them, just to be annoying. “Someone got your thoughts?”

“Coach asked me if the new recruit could stay with us for the long weekend,” Tetsurou ignored Oikawa, turning to Bokuto, eyebrows furrowing. “Bring him to practice ‘an around campus.”

“Yeah?” Bokuto responded, tilting his head ever-so-slightly in that ‘ _I’m Bokuto and I’m thinking really hard_ ’ way. The sound of sneaker soles squelching against the wooden planks grinding in Tetsurou’s ears, tension stretching him like a taut wire. “So what’s wrong? Who is it?”

Tetsurou let out a dry chuckle just at how _damn unfortunate_ the situations was, “Tsukki.”

“ _Tsukki?!_ ” Bokuto, floored, echoed in a strangled squawk.

“Karasuno’s megane?” Oikawa inquired, still listening in, perched at Bokuto’s side. He blinked his wide chestnut eyes, ridiculously long eyelashes fluttering with faux innocence. “Why’s that so bad? I mean… other than the fact he’s probably a terrible houseguest.”

Bokuto turned toward Oikawa, giving him a solemn look. “Tetsu and Tsukki hooked up in third year.”

“ _No,_ ” gasped out Oikawa in that melodramatic tone he uses whenever he’s gossiping (which is too often for everyone on the teams’ taste). He turned to Tetsurou, then, and flashed him a look that was half lewd and half scandalized.

“He totally dropped Tetsu, after that, when we got to Uni,” Bokuto continued, against his better judgement.

Oikawa blinked, a few times, before snickering, softly. “Never would’ve guessed that beanpole was a heartbreaker. Was he good, Tetsu-chan?”

Tetsurou bit the inside of his cheek, averting his gaze to the net-post that was suddenly much more interesting than the current conversation. Hot, sticky guilt blossomed in his chest; something felt so utterly _wrong_ with talking about Tsukishima in that way. He remembered, clear as day, the way Tsukishima’s eyes closed, tightly, when Tetsurou touched him, giving him an expression so personal and intimate. Turning it into a locker room topic seemed like such a betrayal that Tetsurou could never bring himself to commit, no matter how bad it hurt when Tsukishima turned his back on the elder.

Waving his hand in dismissal, he let out another strained laugh. “It doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

“And he has to _stay_ with us?” Bokuto pressed on, despite the reservations, clear on Tetsurou’s face. Then, looking up, “Think he could bring Hinata along? I really miss him.”

Tetsurou was extremely grateful for the mention of Hinata because the conversation turned to that of C _hibi-chan_ and _ugly Tobio-chan_ and the shout of their coach signaled break time was over. Tetsurou felt like he was being pulled apart from five different directions as he threw his bottle towards the bench and prepared for serving drills.

The rest of practice was perfectly mind-numbing, leaving him with a dull ache in his muscles that he much preferred over the white-hot pain of the impending weekend.

When he and Bokuto finally got home (a little past 8pm because Wednesday practices always ran long), they collapsed into the welcoming arms of their dingy couch cushions, soy sauce stains and all.

“We need to get dinner,” Bokuto whined, not moving a muscle.

“If you want food so bad then get food,” Tetsurou shot back, face buried in the pillow Akaashi bought them as a gag housewarming gift (it said _Live Laugh Love_ in pink and red stitching, it was disgusting and their favorite part of the living room). “I’m sure as hell not getting up.”

With a prolonged, over-exaggerated groan, Bokuto pulled himself up from the couch, taking all the strength he had left in his body, and stumbled to the kitchen. Tetsurou heard the refrigerator door being opened then immediately slammed closed with yet another loud groan.

“We don’t have _anything_ ,” Bokuto wailed like it was earth-shattering news. “Can we get a pizza or somethin’?”

“Fine,” Tetsurou agreed, mostly because the thought of cooking sounded like hell on Earth. He reached into the deep pockets of their team jacket, rustling around a bunch of loose change and receipts, to grab his phone. Through exhaustion-veiled eyes, it took a second to register the notification that appeared when he was greeted with the harsh home-screen light.

Then, it hit all at once like a slap in the face. There it was: a message from the person Tetsurou waited almost 2 and a half years to hear from. A message from the person he agonized countless hours over, heart-wrenching so bad he thought he might throw up at 2 in the morning.

Except it wasn’t exactly the message he’d been waiting for, in the slightest.

**From _Tsukki_ (7:56:03 pm)**: I really didn’t know it was you that was going to be showing me around, Takeda just told me he’d arranged for me to stay with you. I can cancel the trip if it makes you uncomfortable.

Tetsurou could’ve sworn all the air in his lungs was knocked out of him; suddenly the aching muscles of endless suicide sprints didn’t seem as painful or prevalent in his body. He could practically see Tsukishima Kei, older ( _god, he was a third year now_ ), typing out the message with a thin expression, pushing his glasses up his nose as he typed.

**To _Tsukki_ (8:12:46 pm)**: Tsukki! it’s been forever lol

 **To _Tsukki_ (8:13:02 pm)**: dw about it i already agreed w my coach that u cld stay over. just gimme details about ur arrival n stay n stuff

Tetsurou winced at his message as he typed it out and pressed send, wondering if it showed just how hard he was trying to pretend it didn’t all hurt.

Bokuto’s heavy footsteps thudded back to the living room and he flung his body onto the couch with such gusto, the whole weight of the cushion shifted. “What’s up? Did you order it yet?”

Tetsurou swallowed, hard, still staring down at his phone. “Um, not yet. Tsukki texted me.” He wondered, vaguely and irrationally, if he’d ever get a response. If Tsukishima would do the same thing and never get back to him, leaving him to wait on the younger forever.

“Yeah?” Bokuto asked with a cocked eyebrow. A long, drawn-out sigh.

“Y’know, I was thinkin’ about you and Tsukki and remembered something funny Akaashi told me awhile back.”

Peaking his interest, Tetsurou was able to tear his eyes from the phone screen and look at his best friend. Bokuto’s arms were laid out behind his neck, leaning against the couch with his bulky limbs spread out.

“‘Kaashi told me that during his third year summer camp, Tsukki was there.”

“Obviously,” Tetsurou replied, rolling his eyes, just a little but smiling, nonetheless.

“And he said that Tsukishima asked about you.”

The flip that Tetsurou’s heart did was embarrassingly big. _He asked about me?_

Bokuto continued, turning his head to look back at Tetsurou’s searching, wide eyes. “Said that Tsukishima seemed upset about things but I don’t really remember the rest.”

Groaning, Tetsurou covered his face with his hands. “You don’t remember? That’s so useless! Dumb owl!”

“What?!” Bokuto cried out, throwing his hands up in defense of himself. “I was really hungover that weekend you can’t blame me!”

“You remember that exact weekend you talked with Akaashi?” Tetsurou replied, pointed and blandly.

“Okay, not exactly but it was first year… we were hungover every weekend.”

“Fine,” Tetsurou huffed. “Good point.”

A moment of silence set in between the two and Tetsurou let out a heavy puff of air, unsure how he was supposed to feel. Instead, when he heard Bokuto’s stomach grumble, he opted to feel hungry and they settled in for the night.

**From Tsukki (8:37:07 pm)** : I’ll be there Saturday morning and leave Monday afternoon. I’ll text you when I get my train conformation.

* * *

The weekend came faster than Tetsurou anticipated but mostly because he threw himself in classes and practice, trying his best (but ultimately failing) to stifle the thoughts and fears of seeing Tsukishima for the first time in years. It’s scared him to his core but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just a little excited (excited for what, he wasn’t sure). Still, most of what little excitement there was squashed under the intense fear of their history.

Tsukishima Kei haunted Tetsurou, his memory following him like a curse. The image of those nights, that weekend at Tetsurou’s house, the encounter in the supply closet, always lingering as he walked through the world. And to see that person, the one who held the single most power over Tetsurou, was downright frightening. Especially the way things had been left off.

_How’s he going to react when he sees me? What are we going to talk about? How will he act?_

Tetsurou left Saturday night plans to Bokuto’s questionably capable hands but ignored his coach’s advice for a full-fledged party. He knew Tsukishima would’ve definitely changed in the two and a half years but he was sure as day that Tsukishima Kei, no matter how old, wouldn’t exactly be a party animal type.

“Got the goods,” Bokuto announced, beaming, as he and Oikawa walked through the front door and dumped five plastic bags on their kitchen counter. It was a Friday night, a little more than 12 hours before Tetsurou was set to pick Tsukishima up from the train station.

Tetsurou looked up from his phone to eye the mountains of bags.

“Got what goods, exactly?”

“Lots of stuff,” Bokuto replied, enthusiasm seeping into his tone. He began to rustle through the bags and list out their purchases. “A ton of six packs. Some tequila so Tooru can make margaritas.”

“Ew,” Tetsurou wrinkled his nose in fake-disgust.

“Hey!” protested Oikawa, who was facing Tetsurou, his back pressed against the granite countertop. “ _Rude_! And pretty rich coming from you, Tetsu-chan, have you forgotten about your Cinco de Mayo fiasco already?”

Bokuto continued, “some White Claw in case Tsukki doesn’t drink hard.”

Oikawa snorted at that, brushing some of his brown curls to the side of his forehead. “I doubt megane-chan would, anyway, so I don’t know why you bothered with all the other stuff.”

“We’ve gotta be good host,” Tetsurou retorted as if it was the most obvious statement in the world. “And the job of a good host is to provide all the booze humanly possible.”

Nodding emphatically, Bokuto hummed in agreement. “I also got vodka and plastic cups. Oh! And lime juice. We can get ice on Saturday.”

Tetsurou was grateful for Bokuto and Oikawa and, as he watched the two of them bicker over the necessity of vodka, a sort of fond amusement prickled in his chest.

“You’ll be okay, right?” Bokuto asked, turning to Tetsurou. Tetsurou blinked at the sudden change in tone.

“I think so,” he mused. “I don’t know how Tsukki’s feeling but… I dunno, I guess I gotta hope I’ll be fine.”

“Did you love him?” Oikawa asked, never shying away from intrusive questions.

“Maybe,” Tetsurou let out a half-choked-up-sob and half-self-pitying-laugh that came from deep inside his gut. “I think so. Maybe I really could’ve if he had let me.”

Bokuto and Oikawa looked at each other, knowingly, then back at Tetsurou in a sympathetic puppy-dog eye kind of way.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Tetsurou shouted, pressing his palm to Bokuto’s face and shoving it backward, lightly.

“Oi,” Bokuto retaliated, ramming his head into Tetsurou’s side in a tackle and Oikawa just laughed and laughed and the night continued on despite the daunting presence the nearby arrival of Tsukishima Kei brought on.

* * *

Tetsurou thought he might pass out because it probably wasn’t good for his heart to be racing so fast. He stood in the station, waiting for the 8:45 train from Miyagi to arrive, rapidly scrolling through his phone’s feed. Except he wasn’t really on his phone, just kept fiddling with it, opening and closing different apps and half-looking at Instagram posts.

He felt like if he opened his mouth, his blood would come spilling out due to his internal organs being squeezed so tight.

The telltale sign of the distant scream of wheels against train track had Tetsurou looking up, staring intensely, as it (as _Tsukishima_ ) pulled into the station.

Anxiously, he scoured and poured over the crowd of people flooding out of the train doors. _Where the hell is he_?

A sudden tap on his shoulder had Tetsurou almost jumping out of his skin before he turned around and took in the Third Year Tsukishima Kei that stood before him.

He was the same pale boy with lanky limbs, still too tall for his own good, but, at the same time, a stranger. His hair had grown out, just a little, falling in corn-blonde wisps over his forehead. He’d gotten new glasses, just a little rounder and thinner on the bottom. He probably grew a little but what was a few more inches to a giant? Tetsurou hated how he could spot all these little changes from just a glance, a true testament to how much time Tsukishima captivated his thoughts.

“Tsukki,” Tetsurou breathed out a greeting, almost forgetting that he had to speak. “Didja grow?”

“Only a little,” Tsukishima replied. His expression, like always, was sort of disinterested. A hint of something else, though, covered his face and Tetsurou could tell. _He probably feels just as awkward as me_.

Try as he might, Tetsurou couldn’t shake the disconcerting image of a younger Tsukishima, sprawled out on his red bedsheets, talking lowly, in between pants. He felt out of place in front of this evolved Tsukishima.

“I see you’re still terrorizing the volleyball community.” Tsukishima drawled and Tetsurou was relieved (though not at all surprised) that he was still his satirical self.

“But of course.”

The pair looked at each other, a semi-uncomfortable silence between them. Tetsurou was uneasy, unable to block out the reminder that this was the kid who smashed his heart. That Tsukishima didn’t want him. Contrasty, though, unable to block out all those gooey feelings that flooded through him when the topic of anything Tsukishima came up. It was an awful sort of contradiction, swirling in the pits of Tetsurou's stomach. _Damn this kid, making a mess out of me like always. Did I really learn nothing these past two years?_

“Should we head to the car?”

“I don’t know,” Tsukishima replied. “Aren’t you the tour guide?”

“Ah, Tsukki,” Tetsurou’s laugh was airy and forced. He rubbed the back of his neck where unruly black hair tampered off down the nape. “You never change, huh?”

The car ride was full of pleasantries. What they’d be doing that weekend, how Shrimpy and Kageyama were doing. What Bokuto and Akaashi were up to. It was nice, if not obligatory, and Tetsurou was so painfully reminded of how _utterly gone_ he was for Tsukishima Kei.

The way he talked, (acerbic with a hint of pleasure, edging at his tone) bringing back memories of high school volleyball. The way the sunlight hit him as they drove down the sitting streets, dancing on his delicate skin like a halo that always followed him.

Tetsurou, as he’d come to realize, was a weak, weak man. _He could break my heart a million times_ , Tetsurou thought, sort of bitterly _, and I’d let him. I’d still be in love with him. He’d think I was pathetic if he knew that. I guess I am._

“Coach wants to have a meeting with you when we get to practice, just to look things over and talk about positions and scholarships and shit,” Tetsurou informed him, eyes steady on the road. “Then you’re supposed to join us for a practice. We might have a game but Coach is kind of erratic about that stuff.”

“Ah,” Tsukishima replied, void of any readable emotion. “Alright.”

Silence. Then, “Is this the only school you’re looking at?”

“No. There’s one in Osaka that wants to scout me. A handful in Kyoto that Takeda-sensei told me to look at.”

“Good ones?”

“I guess. Good teams.”

Tetsurou whistled. “Pretty popular, eh?”

Tsukishima huffed out a bout of laughter and Tetsurou ignored the flurry in his stomach that arose.

“Bokuto planned some stuff for tonight.”

“Stuff? Eloquent.”

“Aw stuff it, brat, we can’t all wax poetic lines.”

“A little context isn’t all that poetic.”

They were bickering so comfortably, it almost felt like the two years didn’t exist. But they knew it did and Tetsurou felt it in heavy waves that settled in the air between the two of them. He knew, could just tell, what had happened was on Tsukishima’s mind as well.

He began to pull into the complex (it was mostly filled with college students; affordable and close enough to the school). “It’s just a get together so don’t worry. Oikawa’ll be there—“

“Oikawa? Oikawa Tooru from Seijoh?”

“Yup. And probably Ushiwaka and a handful of other guys from our team. You’ll like them.”

“If their anything like you and Bokuto, I’m not so sure,” but he was just goading Tetsurou. He always was.

The car rolled to a stop and Tetsurou got out, opening up Tsukishima’s door like a gentleman and pulling his luggage out of the backseat (he didn’t want to open the trunk, it was a hassle because Bokuto broke the latch by slamming it too hard when they took a trip to the beach in their second year).

He lugged the bag up the stairs to their apartment, flinging the door open. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Tsukishima stepped in and Tetsurou saw a hint of a smile, tugging up at the corner of Tsukishima’s ruddy lips.

“I see you two definitely tried your best to clean it up for this weekend,” Tsukishima noted, scanning the haphazard job they did the previous night to make it somewhat presentable.

“Sorry, our maid is on vacation,” Tetsurou joked with a snort.

“Some host you’re turning out to be.”

“We have a sofa-bed you could use but if you wanna sleep in a bed, you can use my room and I—“

“No,” Tsukishima waved him off in dismissal, placing his bag next to the couch. “The sofa-bed is fine for me.”

Tetsurou watched him for a bit, unpack his stuff, and found himself struggling to remember the heartbreak in the first place. It never ceased to amaze him just how much he adored Tsukishima Kei, even in the face of love unreturned.

* * *

“Tetsu! Bro!” the loud, wonderfully familiar voice of Bokuto came from behind Tetsurou. “How’s it with Tsukki?”

“God, Kou,” Tetsurou buried his face in his best friend’s shoulder. “I’ve got it so bad for him and it’s so _wrong_ because he already made his choice about me.”

Bokuto gave him a sympathetic smile. “Hey, you never know, right?”

“Don’t give me hope, bro,” Tetsurou smiled back, weakly.

“Where is he, anyway?” Bokuto asked as they sat down to start their warm-up stretches.

“He’s talking to Coach right now. He’s gonna join us for practice.”

“Yes! Practice with Tsukki like a good ol’ days! I can’t wait to say hi! I wanna ask how Hinata is!”

“Dude, you have Hinata’s snap and number.”

“Yeah I know,” Bokuto frowned, eyebrows furrowing. “It’s not the same, though. He’s my son, you know.”

Tetsurou chuckled and continued his torso stretch.Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the door to their coach’s office, adjoining the gym, open up and Tsukishima walk out. Tsukishima caught his eye and smirked, just a little, his eyes so clearly saying _I caught you staring_.

Flushing, hotly, Tetsurou looked away. Insatiable as he was, though, he continued to sneak glances at the two of them. He watched as Coach said something to Tsukishima, motioning towards the court and Tsukishima give that cute, curt nod of his.

He began to jog over, then, and it took all but one second for Bokuto to go flying towards the younger, flinging himself at Tsukishima.

“Tsukki! It’s been forever!”

“ _Urgh_ ,” was the displeasured sound from Tsukishima as his body was smothered by Bokuto in a flurry of hugs and head pats. Tetsurou had to laugh. There was something so nostalgic about the scene, reminiscent of a phantom time. Tetsurou was nothing if not downright _cheesy_ and embarrassing (as Kenma had so liked to put it) and, though it wasn’t actually that long ago in the grand scheme of things, Tetsurou was almost wistful. Tsukishima being annoyed (but just a little charmed, though he’d sooner die before admitting it) by Bokuto’s antics, Tetsurou egging them on with his wheezy laughter. All they needed was Akaashi’s disapproving grin and the moment would’ve been stripped straight out of summer training.

Practice began not long after, Tetsurou being unable to contain the emotions he felt when Tsukishima so cutely introduced himself to the team, bowing formally ( _God, he really shouldn’t be feeling these things (impossible, though, because loving Tsukishima came as naturally to him as breathing))_.

Needless to say, Tetsurou was distracted the whole practice, getting multiple scoldings from not only his coach but Oikawa, of all people.

It really wasn’t his fault; he couldn’t, _physically couldn’t_ , remove his line of sight from Tsukishima. _He’s grown so much_ , not even Tetsurou’s volleyball-related observations could keep the fondness out of them. He’d truly evolved into something beyond Tetsurou’s beliefs. The way he moved spoke volumes to the hours of practice he must have put in; fluid with almost no unnecessary movements. Calculating bronze eyes, always watching and alert. And the way he _jumped_ , his white t-shirt riding up to show his slender, enticing figure (Tetsurou was three seconds away from calling the cops on _himself_ , god).

“Careful,” Oikawa cooed, lips close to Tetsurou’s ear. “He’ll steal your star middle blocker spot.”

In the end, Tetsurou didn’t get much done that practice.

* * *

Tetsurou sat on his bed, smoothing out the red duvet with the tips of his fingers (the same one from his old room back at home, the same one he and Tsukishima… _no, don’t think about_ it), waiting for Tsukishima. Bokuto was picking everyone up in Tetsurou’s car so it was just the two of them. _Just the two of them_ , Tetsurou thought, a wave of heat jumping to his cheeks.

“Fuck,” he muttered, realizing just how _bad_ the situation is. How dumb does he truly have to be to still be in love with this kid? Tsukishima had made it very clear where he stood; he wouldn’t have even been here had Takeda not set up the tour without Tsukishima’s knowledge and yet… here he was, feeling all the feelings he exactly _shouldn’t_ be feeling.

“That bad, huh?” Tsukishima said, appearing, suddenly, in the doorway. Tetsurou’s head whipped up. His jaw dropped, just a bit.

Tsukishima wore a light gray dress shirt, a few corners tucked into the waistband of dark navy jeans. He turned his head away, pushing his glasses up, a silent _how do I look?_

“Damn Tsukki,” Tetsurou said, trying to gather as much composure as he could. “You sure clean up nice, huh?”

Something changed in Tsukishima’s expression when Tetsurou said that, eyes widening a little. He pressed his lips into a thin line and tried his best not to look like he was feeling something. Tetsurou could tell, he was stifling some unknown emotion that only Tsukishima, himself, knew he felt. God, what Tetsurou wouldn’t give to read those heavily guarded thoughts.

“I didn’t know if we’d be doing anything so I brought this just in case. Yachi convinced me.”

“Yachi, hm? How’s she doing?”

“Alright, she and Yamaguchi started going on dates but they aren’t dating.”

“Dates but aren’t dating?” Tetsurou repeated. “Sounds a bit counterintuitive, no?”

“Oh, definitely, but I suppose it’s the kind of thing that fits them,” Tsukishima leaned on the doorframe. “Slowly dancing around each other but always knowing where the other stands.”

“And how’s—“ Tetsurou was cut off by the door being flung open and the distinctively loud voices of an already buzzed Bokuto and Oikawa. Knowing them, they’d definitely pre-gamed at Oikawa’s place and had Ushijima drive, Tetsurou’s deduced.

“Tsukki,” Bokuto drawled, wandering into Tetsurou’s room. ”We got whatever you want. Tooru can-” a hiccup, “even make margaritas. They’re kinda trashy but still good.”

“I can hear you, Kou-chan,” came the scandalized screech of Oikawa.

Tetsurou looked over to Tsukishima, who was trying to peel a tipsy Bokuto off him. “You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.”

Tsukishima looked around then shrugged. “When in Rome,” he said and let Oikawa lead him to the kitchen, the latter rambling something about his drink-making skills. He smiled, facial features turning to goo, as he watched. He felt something cold being thrust into his hand. A can of beer.

“Here bro,” Bokuto said, throwing an arm around Tetsurou’s shoulder in a comforting way that always felt good and right. “You need it.”

“You’re damn right.”

It had never occurred to Tetsurou that Tsukishima probably hadn’t been drunk many times before which meant his tolerance level was almost as low as Oikawa’s (aka as low as a baby’s). As the night wore on, Tsukishima talked and mingled and drank, an easy smile crossing his features that was almost never there, sober. It was breathtaking. 

“Tsukkiii,” Tetsurou called out, words slurring at the tail.Tsukishima turned to look at him, pale skin painted in red. He was swaying, just a little, and Tetsurou let out a hearty laugh. “You can’t hold your liquor for shit.”

Embarrassed, Tsukishima turned his head to the side and grumbled into his cup. Tetsurou just continued to laugh and pointed him in the direction of more teammates to get to know. It was nice, the boozy fog Tetsurou was looking through. It blocked out some of the more painful reminders that had been plaguing him for the past week (the past two years). Looking at Tsukishima didn’t feel as painful, god bless the alcohol, he just felt warm. Just felt that giddy delight he had, that night after Nationals, and that giddy delight _only_.

And maybe, just maybe, Tsukishima felt the same because once Oikawa and Bokuto had fucked off somewhere (to, most definitely, do something stupid), Ushijima had gone on home (or maybe to supervise them) and the rest of the people began to funnel out at around 1:30 in the morning, it was just him and Tsukishima on the couch.

“You know,” Tsukishima spoke first, stumbling clumsily over his words. His head was tilted back on the couch, the side of his body pressed rather close to Tetsurou’s. “I think about you a lot, Kuroo-san.”

Tetsurou looked over, shocked at Tsukishima’s candidness, almost spilling what was left of Tooru’s margarita. He couldn’t feel his pulse, he didn’t remember how to breathe. Instead, he held his breath tightly in his lungs, almost as tightly as he was gripping the cup, and let Tsukishima go on.

“…I think about that night,” Tsukishima’s voice lacked its usual eloquence, the alcohol thrusting all the unspoken words, the forbidden topic, right to his mouth. He sucked in a sharp breath, cheeks caving in just a little. 

“Me too,” admitted Tetsurou, voice hoarse. He bit down, hard on his lip.

“Yeah?” Tsukishima asked, exhaling. “Then…” a pause, “are we going to do something about it?”

 _This must be a dream,_ the only rational part of Tetsurou is thinking. The part that loved (loves, will always love) Tsukishima, though, was filling his body with unbridled joy. Even though he could feel the presence of tequila, squeezing at his brain, everything still felt so clear and vivid, just as it had in that supply closet on that hot evening.

Tsukishima, possessed by something outside of his own judgement, leant forward and wrapped his arms around Tetsurou’s waist, all but _nuzzling_ his head into Tetsurou’s stomach. Then, he looked up, glasses slipping off his face, eyes glassy and unfocused but so, so wonderfully big.

 _This is wrong_ , Tetsurou’s brain told him with his last semi-coherent thought, not completely overtaken by intoxication. _This is wrong, we’re drunk, this is wrong_. Despite it, when Tsukishima raised his head, lips puckering and breath hot, Tetsurou met him halfway.

 _This sensation_ , thought Tetsurou as they began to kiss _, I remember it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading! come scream at me on tumblr: @tetskuroo


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is called: everyone knows whats best for tetsu except tetsu and tsukki is insecure as hell

Everything about Tsukishima was the same as it had been, Tetsurou observed with what little coherent recollection he had. The way he moved, the dips and curves of his body, pushing and pulling against Tetsurou’s own. It was so amazingly familar like Tetsurou was coming home for the first time in years. 

“Are you sure?” Tetsurou slurred in a drunken moment of clarity after he finished tugging Tsukishima’s shirt off of him. He soaked in the view of that slender torso, more toned than two years ago but all the more wonderful. “Is this okay?”

“It’s okay,” Tsukishima stuttered out his reassurance, pressing his warm face into the crook of Tetsurou’s neck, right above his exposed collarbone. Tetsurou might’ve died and gone to heaven when he felt Tsukishima’s abnormally clumsy hands fumbling with the elder’s pant buttons.

It felt just as it had in that supply closet, nearly forever ago; hot and breathless and frothing with possibilities.

Tsukishima was a vision against Tetsurou’s bedsheets, sprawled out on the duvet as Tetsurou climbed above him, boxing him down to the mattress. Red, matching his bedsheets, heavily dusted his cheeks, spreading down his neck. He wore low alcohol tolerance in a beautifully bashful way that only he could make gorgeous.

“Tsukki,” purred Tetsurou, words coming out a garbled, confused mess. “Anyone ever told you how hot you are? You’re so hot.”

“Only you Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima replied, hooking his legs around Tetsurou’s, squeezing tight around the former captain’s calves.

Tetsurou shuddered at the feeling, heart thrumming rapidly in his chest. He’d liked to think he was well-acquainted with the likes of Tsukishima and intimacy but this was something entirely new. They were older and wiser but the same naivety surrounded them. Moonlight poured into the room, seeping through Tetsurou’s thin curtains that barely worked in keeping light out. It trickled over Tsukishima’s body as Tetsurou kissed his neck, sucking and biting uselessly on the skin. He trailed down from the neck, lower, and as his lips and tongue traveled down Tsukishima, the younger squirmed and whined beneath him.

When Tetsurou brought his head up, he stopped, abruptly, eyes widening. Tears trickled down Tsukishima’s cheeks, the blonde’s slender fingers pressed to his own lips, trying to suppress the sobs.

“Tsukki?” Tetsurou asked, voice low and concerned. _He’s crying_ was the first thought. _I’ve never seen him cry before_ was the second. _He’s a pretty crier, of course he is_ was the third. _I did something wrong_ was the last one, the worst one. “Are you okay? I’ll stop, I’m so sorr—“

“No,” Tsukishima’s voice shook like a leaf in the wind, still crying. “Don’t stop, Kuroo-san.”

When Tetsurou said nothing, still above Tsukishima on all fours, in shock, Tsukishima spoke again.

“ _Please_ ,” he pleaded. “Don’t stop.” The alcohol was most definitely making him weepy but there was something so raw about his voice that made Tetsurou question everything that had happened between them. Even with the presence of liquor, the way Tsukishima grasped on to Tetsurou’s sides, tightly (so tightly like Tetsurou was the only thing keeping Tsukishima to the Earth) spoke volumes to Tetsurou. _How can these be the words of someone who doesn’t love me?_ It made no sense.

Still, he pressed on. 

“Okay,” Tetsurou murmured, lips grazing Tsukishima’s ear. “I won’t.”

The “Thank you” Tsukishima whispered was so hushed that Tetsurou almost missed it.

* * *

Tsukishima huffed, breathing delicately as his head nestled into Tetsurou’s chest. He smelled of sweet things, fruity and perfect (though, to Tetsurou, was there anything Tsukishima did that wasn’t perfect). His eyes were struggling to stay open while the minutes ticked by. It was nearing 3:30 in the morning. It was a wonder Tsukishima was still awake, though, and Tetsurou had to commend him on that. Tetsurou leaned his chin down to plant a tender kiss on the crown of Tsukishima’s head. This was all he wanted. All he ever wanted.

“Was it good for you?” Tetsurou asked like he always did.

Tsukishima’s voice was laced with sleepiness and inebriation as he murmured out, “It always is.”

That was all Tetsurou needed to hear before he closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

* * *

Tetsurou winced, sitting up, the harsh sunlight slamming into his eyes. A dull throbbing in the back of his skull made itself known and Tetsurou dragged a hand across his face, groaning.

“Fuck,” he muttered, mouth disgustingly dry with the after-taste of whatever the hell he drank. He tried to remember just what had happened. After blinking a few times and he saw Tsukishima in his mind, those eyes, and last night came flooding back to him in full force. Eye widening, he whipped his head around (a mistake on his aching body), throwing his comforter off his body.

No Tsukishima was in sight.

_ He's gone. _

Pushing himself out of the bed, he stumbled out of his room in a blind panic. _Where the hell is he_? He hadn’t even bothered to put on clothes, ran out clad in only his red boxers that he’d pulled on just before the two of them had passed out.

“Morning Tetsu,” a weak voice came from the couch. Tetsurou peered over but, instead of Tsukishima, he was greeted with the sight of a completely messed up Bokuto, who’d clearly come home at some ungodly hour and hadn’t even bothered to change or go to his own bedroom.

“I’m trashed,” he said as if it wasn’t obvious to anyone with eyes.

“Have you seen Tsukishima?” Tetsurou demanded. He must have looked rather insane, screaming in a gravely, strangled voice, practically naked. Then again, so did Bokuto so there wasn’t much judgement passed there.

“Huh? No? Didn’t he sleep over?”

“Obviously,” Tetsurou spat out like the words tasted bad in his mouth. He didn’t care if he sounded like a jackass, he was in _crisis mode._ After scanning the room and seeing that the blonde’s overnight bag was still sitting by the couch, some of the terror dissipated ( _That’s good, he can’t leave without that_ ). “We had sex last night… and he disappeared.”

“You had sex last night?” Bokuto repeated, loudly. The harshness of his words must have triggered something in his hungover-goop of a brain because after that he winced and massaged his temples. In a, now, hushed voice he continued, “How did that happen?”

“He’s _gone_ ,” Tetsurou ignored Bokuto’s questions, running back into his room to dig up whatever clothes he could find and tug them on, carelessly. “I have to find him. Where do you think he is?”

Bokuto squinted his eyes, still smushed into the couch cushions. “I dunno,” he mumbled, stuffing his face into the pillow.

“You’re useless,” Tetsurou groaned out, grabbing his backpack and keys from their front hallway.

“Wait!” Bokuto called as Tetsurou laced his shoes up, kneeling by the doorway. “Um. Pretty sure we left your car at Tooru’s place.”

“You _what_?”

“Sorry,” Bokuto rubbed his neck, sheepishly. At least he had the decency to look apologetic. It didn’t matter, though, because despite being way too hungover for his own good (especially to run a search party), his mind was running at a million miles an hour and all it said was _Tsukishima, Tsukishima, Tsukishima_ like a mantra, doomed to repeat forever.

_I just got him back, I can’t let him get away again. I have to make this right._

* * *

Tetsurou slammed his fist into Oikawa’s door exactly five times and shouted, “Tooru! Open up!”

He heard the telltale sound of feet, shuffling against the hardwood floors, a _thud_ and angry curses under a breath before the door flung open to reveal Oikawa’s haggard appearance.

“What,” hissed Oikawa, unable to keep up his princely facade, “the _fuck_ do you want?” If he weren’t so desperate, there would’ve definitely been a joke about how Oikawa looked like a the world's ugliest vampire, hissing at the daylight, sheltered by the dark of his apartment.

“You have my car keys,” Tetsurou replied, the urgency edging at his words, his weight shifting nervously between his legs. “I need them.”

Oikawa eyed him, looking him up and down, before demanding, “ _Why_? No offense, Tetsu-chan, but you look like shit.”

Tetsurou was angry for a second but it quickly dissolved when he looked past Oikawa’s shoulder into his apartment, where a full-length mirror was in view (Oikawa, if nothing else, was a narcissist. He always had to triple check his appearance before he left for the day, hence the mirror in his doorway). He _did_ look like shit, sallow skin with dark bags under his eyes. Hair more unruly than usual (though was that even possible?), mused and sticking up in awkward places.

“ _Fuck_ , Tooru,” he breathed out a curse, running his finger through his hair. His head _ached_ , in competition with his heart. “I don’t know what to do.”

That statement didn’t just ring true about the current missing person situation at hand but about everything. Now, in a decidedly more sober mindset and taking a step back, Tetsurou was swimming in his own confusion, nearly drowning. As far as he knew, Tsukishima wanted nothing to do with him, romantically, but after last night?

“Come in,” Oikawa offered, opening the door a little wider.

“I can’t,” Tetsurou replied. _I’m wasting precious time_.

“What happened to you two last night?” Leave it to Oikawa to figure out the littlest things.

“Me and Tsukki…we got together again and when I woke up he was gone. I need to find him.”

Oikawa studied him for a second, mulling over the information. “If you ask me,” he started, always seizing the opportunity to give his two-cents, “I think Megane-chan is a coward.” Tetsurou didn’t have an answer to that so Oikawa continued, leaning against the doorframe and clutching the sides. “I think, deep down, he loves you just as much as you love him but he’s scared of what that means.”

“Oh,” Tetsurou replied, dumbly.

“What’re you gonna say if you find him?”

“I didn’t really think about it,” Tetsurou admitted, so caught up in everything. “Probably that I love him. I want to be with him.”

“That’s the kind of thing that’ll scare people like him off, Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa scolded him, almost sagely. “I think you need to really try to understand what he thinks before you make a big move, y’know?”

A laugh, dry and void of any mirth. “How can I do that?” Tsukishima Kei was another entity, entirely, to Tetsurou. Understanding him, _truly understanding him_ , didn't seem possible. Tetsurou had always been happy with the little scraps of Tsukishima's thoughts, happy to be allowed in, even if it was just a little. He had no clue what truly lied beyond his sardonic quips and, even more, didn't even know where to start deciphering Tsukishima Kei. 

“C’mon Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa goaded, sing-songing his words. “You’re smarter than that. Use your head.” But, since he’s Oikawa Tooru, he provided the answer he’d clearly already thought up. “Is there anyone you could call, a confidant of his, perhaps?”

Then, it dawned on Tetsurou, all at once, “Akaashi! Of course! I’ll call him while I’m looking.”

Oikawa smirked in that know-it-all way of his. “You should check the gym.”

“I will,” Tetsurou smiled, as best he could to show his appreciation for Oikawa. “For a piece of shit, you do have your moments, huh?”

“Get out of my property!” Oikawa screeched, hurling the car keys at Tetsurou before the latter ran off, chuckling under his breath. In moments like these, he was certainly glad he met Oikawa Tooru. For all his whining and demanding and complaining, he always came through. Always set the right balls and made the right judgement calls in a game; always gave the right advice and told people what they needed to hear, when they needed to hear it (with a stellar lack of tact).

Tetsurou didn’t have much time to be appreciative, though, as he got into his car and starting dialing Akaashi’s number.

It rang once. Twice. Tetsurou chewed on his bottom lip, anticipation worming its way inside him.

Halfway into the third ring, the even-tempered voice of Akaashi Keiji floated into Tetsurou’s ear. “Kuroo-san?”

“Akaashi,” Tetsurou almost cried in relief, holding the phone with one hand and pulling out of Oikawa’s building’s driveway with the other. “I need your help.”

Tetsurou and Akaashi were nowhere near as close as the latter was with Bokuto (how could they? Akaashi and Bokuto were practically joint at the hip all through high school, they shared a mind) but, since college, Tetsurou took up the position of Bokuto’s full-time partner and he knew that Akaashi, in a lot of ways, appreciated him for that. After all, Akaashi would never be able to stop worrying about Bokuto to save his life.

“My help?” Akaashi repeated, incredulously (or as incredulously as Akaashi was capable of sounding at 10 in the morning, voice still laced with sleep).

“Bokuto told me you talked to Tsukishima about me, back in your third year and—“

“Excuse me, Kuroo-san," Akaashin interrupted, "but some context would be nice.”

Tetsurou faintly smiled and proceeded to spill his guts to Akaashi about absolutely everything, from the beginning to the end. Or wherever they currently stood, because he refused to believe it was the end. It couldn’t be. Not if Tetsurou had anything to say about it, at least.

There was something refreshingly comfortable about talking to Akaashi, his silent listening with the occasional comment. It felt strangely therapeutic.

“I see,” Akaashi murmured, once Tetsurou finished. “He did talk to me once, about everything, so I think I have some advice to help a bit.”

Tetsurou held his breath, biting down on his lip.

“Talk to him,” Akaashi stated, rather simply. Tetsurou waited for him to expand, to clarify, give him a step-by-step guide but was met with only silence.

“Talk to him?”

“Talk to him.” Then, after a brief moment, “Tsukishima isn’t the kind of person that’s going to open himself to you so easily, Kuroo-san, you know this. You should know this better than anyone. You were lucky he was drunk enough to do what he did and be a little vulnerable with you but you aren’t going to get that again unless you have a real, genuine talk with him. Chances are, from what I’ve heard, he’s feeling the same things as you but the only way for you two to grow past what he did to you, two years ago, is to understand why he did it.”

Tetsurou was quiet, too shocked to utter a sound. He was clutching his phone to his hear, gripping it so hard his knuckles began to turn white. Then, he whistled, low and prolonged. “Damn, Akaashi, if you’re so proficient in love advice then why haven’t you and Bokuto gotten your shit together, yet?”

Though there was no shift in his even tone, he could tell that comment ruffled some feathers because the response was a simple, “I’m hanging up now, Kuroo-san.”

“Wait,” Tetsurou said, voice dropping. “Thanks, Akaashi. I needed it.”

“Just trust my advice. Even if Tsukishima doesn’t express it, it’s what he wants.”

The line clicked off and Tetsurou stewed in the silence. He’d always assumed that the reason Tsukishima stopped talking to him after he graduated was simply because the younger didn’t love Tetsurou, didn’t want to be with him or have anything to do with him. He never stopped and wondered if maybe there was something else.

Filled with a new determination, Tetsurou _had_ to find Tsukishima. If not for his own selfish, love-driven needs, for the blonde himself. He wanted to make things okay, he wanted to make _Tsukishima_ okay.

The first step, of course, was actually finding him. Tetsurou pulled into the parking lot next to the gymnasium, hopping out of the car and jogging toward the building, with new purpose in his step.

As it turned out, he wasn’t in the gym. He wasn’t anywhere on campus, as Tetsurou came to find out, after practically an hour of running around it looking like absolutely out of his mind.

He made the executive decision to go back home and wait. If Tsukishima’s bag was still there, he’d be bound to come back (he doubted Tsukishima would ever leave his beloved white headphones behind; it was unthinkable).

**To Bokuto (10:49:23):** hey i’m coming home. did tsukki come back yet?

 **To Bokuto (10:49:56):** if he does, make sure he doesn’t leave

 **To Bokuto (10:52:34):** hello??

When Tetsurou stepped into the apartment, he noticed two things immediately.

One was Bokuto, snoring on the couch.

The other, the more heart-stopping one, was Tsukishima, rustling around in Tetsurou’s room, packing his bag.

 _Damnit Bokuto_ , Tetsurou glared over at the useless, dead-to-the-world lump on the couch. Bokuto always tended to be a heavy sleeper but when sleeping off a hangover? He could snooze right through the apocalypse, no question about it.

“What are you doing?” Tetsurou’s voice sharply permeated through the silent room, Tsukishima’s head snapping up and slowly turning to the door. He looked scared (no, not scared, more upset, really) for only a split, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it second before assuming his passive expression and continued with his task.

“I’m packing my things,” he answered, folding up his shift from last night with way too much care considering how haphazardly it was thrown to the floor the night before.

“Is this because of last night?” Tetsurou asked, expression screwing up in sadness. _It’s now or never._

“Last night was a mistake,” Tsukishima replied, simply, head tilted downwards, staring at his overnight bag. “I had too much to drink and it shouldn’t have happened. I’ll be getting out of your hair now. I booked a ticket for the train leaving in an hour. Thank you for having m—.”

“It was a mistake?” Tetsurou repeated, cutting Tsukishima off.

“It was a mistake.”

Tetsurou balled up his fist, desperation and love aching in his body. Akaashi’s advice echoed in his mind. _You need to talk to him_ , he reminded himself, _you need to confront him and understand._

“I think you’re wrong, Tsukki, you’re lying. I can’t believe that it was a mistake, Tsukki, I just can’t. Even if we were drunk, what you said…you wanted it to happen. Don’t lie. Please.”

Tsukishima mulled over Tetsurou’s words, eyes narrowed and almost paranoid. He was a fish caught in a net, flailing around and begging for air but silent. Painfully silent.

“Don’t run away again, Tsukki,” Tetsurou pleaded. He felt hot tears gather in his eyes. The d _on’t leave me again_ was unspoken but there nonetheless and both of them knew it.

Tsukishima, to Tetsurou’s shock, didn’t shoot back with something angry and sarcastic. Didn’t retort or ignore him. Didn’t throw up his defenses. Instead, the blonde just sat down on the edge of Tetsurou’s bed, legs dangling off the side and head hung low.

“Maybe I _was_ lying,” Tsukishima muttered through clenched teeth, like each word hurt as it left his mouth. Tsukishima’s response was calculated, as it always was, but rawness dripped out of him, splattering onto the floor by Tetsurou’s feet. “Maybe it _wasn’t_ a mistake. What would you say to that?”

Baffled, Tetsurou had no idea how to respond. There were a million things he’d want to ask, a million feelings he wanted to express but it all came to one word, escaping his lips like it was ripped straight from his heart and violently thrown into the world. “Why?”

“Why?”

“If you’re lying then why’d you run away this morning? Why’d you run away two and a half years ago?” There it was, out in the open. All the hurt Tetsurou’s been harboring, the heartbreak he’s nursed.

A low, defeated huff of laughter.

“You want the truth, Kuroo-san?”

Tetsurou gulped. “I do, Tsukki."

“I was scared,” Tsukishima looked down at his hands, tangled together in his lap. His face was scrunched up into something unreadable, eyebrows furrowed and nose twitching. If Tetsurou didn’t know better, he’d think Tsukishima was about to cry. “You can laugh if you want, I know it’s pathetic. I was scared that I’d let you down. You’d go to college in the city and be held down by me. You built me, _us_ , up in your mind to be something and I was so sure I was never going to be able to live up to what you wanted and by the time I realized that wouldn’t have happened, it’d been far too long.”

Tetsurou held his breath, heart thudding, slamming against his ribcage. He wanted to hurl and cry and throw himself at Tsukishima, all at once. He opted for asking “Far too long since what?” Tetsurou's voice was strained and cracking with hurt.

“When I realized you’d never feel let down by me. It was after talking to Akaashi during the summer training camp in second year. By then, it had been almost half a year since…Nationals. I couldn’t bring myself to text you. Not after the way I’d ended things. Or, _didn’t_ end things, I should say. I thought it would be better for you if I stayed out of your life.”

 _Ashamed_ , Tetsurou thought, as he watched Tsukishima. _He feels ashamed_.

“Better for me?” Tetsurou echoed, incredulously. His voice was choked up, heavy with tears that he struggled to keep in. He tentatively crossed the room from where he stood at the doorway to the chair at his desk, sitting in front of Tsukishima. “Tsukki, that was never what I wanted! I would’ve waited forever for you. I wouldn’t have cared if you texted me a month, a year, _five years_ later.” _Forever_. 

“Don’t say that,” Tsukishima whispered, finally allowing himself to cry. With tears slipping down his cheeks, pooling in his eyes, he looked impossibly young. “That scares me, Kuroo-san.”

More shocking than the crying, though, he looked Tetsurou straight in the eyes. Tsukishima almost never looked at Tetsurou in moments of vulnerability and, now, Tetsurou wondered if he actually preferred it that way because the pointed gaze of amber eyes, filled with tears, shook him up in a way he’s never been shook up before. It was like staring into the face of the most beautiful nightmare Tetsurou could ever have. The pure emotion written into Tsukishima’s lovely features hurt Tetsurou’s heart.

When Tetsurou didn’t reply, just watched the younger, Tsukishima continued. “How can I be that person, Kuroo-san? Don't you think it's cruel of you to put that on me? Am I supposed to live up to that person you’d wait five years for?”

“You’re not supposed to,” Tetsurou told him, reaching out to grab one of Tsukishima’s hands. It was warm and felt the same as it had that night as they cuddled, fingers interwoven and pressed to the bedsheets. “You just _are_ , Tsukki. When I met you back then, you were a standoffish, frail, cynical little bitch.” Tsukishima chucked at that and rolled his eyes, clicking his lips to make a _tch_ sound, in spite of everything. “And that’s exactly how I saw you but, even still, I wanted you from the day we met.”

Tsukishima’s eyes widened, facial expression twisting up and evening out as if Tetsurou’s words just solved the hardest puzzle known to man, unlocking all the secrets within himself. “Kuroo-san, I—“

“You,” Tetsurou cut him off, “don’t have to be anyone because you just _are_. No matter what you do, you’ll always be exactly what I want. Even if you shave your head or stop playing volleyball or move to America and join a punk rock band or…or… _ghost me for two years,_ that fact won’t change.”

There was a moment of quiet before, “You’re very unfair, Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima’s voice was wet as tears slipped down his perfect porcelain cheeks. In the midday sun, the light streaming in from Tetsurou’s curtains hit his face so that the tear stains spilled out on Tsukishima looked like pools of diamonds.

“Sorry,” Tetsurou apologized in the most earnest voice he could muster. He reached his other, free hand out, brushing away the stray tears that kept falling. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, but for a second he was so sure Tsukishima leaned into his touch. “I guess I’m just a selfish man in love.”

Then, “Come to school here, Tsukki. Be my teammate and come to Wednesday practices. Stay over at my place and go to the science lab with me and watch dumb movies with me and Bokuto and Oikawa. Okay?”

Tsukishima let out a laugh, the one that sounds like tiny bells, music to Tetsurou’s ears. “Let me finish my tour, at least. We’ll see by the end of the weekend so if you want a yes from me, you better wow me with your tour guide skills for the next day and a half.”

Tetsurou’s eyes widened before an easy grin spread on his face. _This fucking kid,_ he thought _, will definitely be the death of me_ ( _but what a good death it will be_ ).

“Deal,” he shook Tsukishima’s hand, still encased in his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading !!
> 
> come scream at me on tumblr @tetskuroo :-)


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